Carly is about to learn an important lesson.
A very sexy, very domineering, very Alpha lesson.
It's release day! To celebrate, I'm giving away 2 - $10 Amazon gift cards to two lucky winners who help me spread the word.
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Don't go away yet! I also have a yummy snippet to share.
Here are the three simple rules.
1.) read the excerpt
2.) leave a comment
3.) share this post with your friends on FB (make sure to tag me so you get credit).
I'll announce the winners back here on Friday, February 9th.
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Don't go away yet! I also have a yummy snippet to share.
This book started out in January as a short story for the
Three M's Newsletter, but Carly had more story to tell and Trent
took hold of my heart. So voila,
Three M's Newsletter, but Carly had more story to tell and Trent
took hold of my heart. So voila,
my first indie published novella.
It is indeed a short novel compared to my regular epics, but I think
you'll find its also sweet, sexy, fun, and romantic, with the usual
Taylorized smoking hot 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 dominant male.
you'll find its also sweet, sexy, fun, and romantic, with the usual
Taylorized smoking hot 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 dominant male.
I hope you enjoy it! 💗
His slow, tender smile was as intimate as his kisses. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you, Carly?”
“I want to be, Trent. So very much.” She laid a trembling hand against the side of his neck, her thumb sweeping along his jaw, and said boldly, with a directness she’d withheld before tonight, “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“Same here, baby, but I was too blind to see what was in front of me, or too stubborn to accept it.” He took her hand once more and led her to the back of the store to one of the tables, not to the same one she’d posed on, but another, covered with neatly folded and stacked underthings in satin and lace. With a sweep of his arm, he sent the lot of it to the floor in a shower of color, and three-digit price tags.
At any other time, she would have vehemently protested the designer sacrilege.
His long fingers curled around her shoulders and he turned her to face the now empty table. “We’ll do this here.”
He patted the surface, and it occurred to her the same hand would soon be doing more than patting her backside, undoubtedly with a good deal more energy and enthusiasm.
“Bend over, Carly. Grip the table edge and rest your cheek against the top.”
Not a request or a suggestion, his tone didn’t cajole or coax; it was an order plain and simple. Firmly given in his low voice, in what Carly recognized as an ever-present underlying authority, she didn’t hesitate and moved into position. It didn’t mean her heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.
After she settled, her face aflame with embarrassment, and a healthy dose of excitement as well, his hand met her backside. She jumped, but it wasn’t from a hard smack signaling the beginning of her punishment. Instead, it was the slow, sensual glide of his palm over her skin.
“Your outfit was made for this, I do believe.”
She answered in a whisper. “It’s European. I’ve heard this sort of thing goes on all the time over there.”
“It happens here, too, baby. You’ll soon be living proof.” He patted her lightly, and with his other hand firm on her lower back, resting right above the sweet, sexy black ruffle, he delivered the first swat.
The sound startled her more than the heat his hand left, and she flinched again, this time letting out a little yelp.
“Stay still for me, Carly, like my good girl.”
His words sent shivers straight through her heart to her other intimate needy places and felt awesome. Wanting to submit to this punishment, make up for her mistake, and hopefully start over with a clean slate with him. Her fingers curled around the table edge tighter. “I’ll try, Trent.”
His hand resumed its leisurely glide as he murmured, “I think when your bottom is presented for punishment this way, ‘sir’ is better suited to the occasion. Try again. Can you stay still for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl.”
His approval kicked the tingles up a notch. They became buzzing currents which shot through her and made the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. Her nipples, hard the minute he touched her bare skin, grew painfully tight—the heat of passion hurts-so-good kind of tight—and more wetness tickled her pussy. The little strip of mesh, all that made up the thong of the bodysuit, had long since reached its threshold for absorbency and she felt the dampness on her inner thighs.
Why was the whole idea of being spanked by him, of calling him sir, of obeying his commands, so hot?
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